Safety

How to safely drive to your domicile in the People’s Republic of New Jersey:

  • Stop somewhere for 46 oz. of beer and a light supper.
  • Casually toss your dog-eared copy of The Modern Drunkard: A Handbook for Drinking in the 21st Century in the passengers’ seat.
  • Carefully place a six pack of Old Milwaukee in the center console to ensure it doesn’t get shook up.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig.

Posted in Reality is a Harsh Mistress | 2 Comments

The Road

Dunno how I feel about Cormac McCarthy movies. They’re bleak. They seem to lack any redeeming qualities. There are no simple answers. I suspect they’re the most realistic flicks ever made but they’re a damned sight different from what we expect out of movies.

Posted in Movies I've Seen | Leave a comment

FAIL

Has no-one in New Jersey ever heard of this marvelous new invention?? Amazing stuff really, NaCl. When you throw it on snow and ice said snow and ice miraculously melts away. Particularly under the warming rays of a clear winter sun.

I really should expect these sorts of failures by now. Any nation, state or city ruled by mollycoddling fascists is patently unable to deliver basic services. And New Jersey is one of the posterchildren of mollycoddling fascist rule.

So major roads are barely passable – two lanes out of three at best on interstates and United States highways. Secondary roads are an absolute mess and city streets are no better than sleigh paths through one of Robert Frost’s proverbial woods.

It’s unconscionable. With the bright sunshine of the past two days all that’s needed is a good scraping and a healthy dose of salt or cinders applied at regular intervals.

Funny how private driveways, parking lots and lanes are all completely clear and dry – not a drop of snow, ice or even water upon them – while pretty near every surface controlled by municipal services is an utter disaster.

Welcome to the future. You’ll get a ticket if your kid doesn’t wear a bicycle helmet but don’t expect the streets to be passable any time soon.

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Disney

The scourges of Disney World (or any place where the public gathers in great numbers and attempts to move around) are, in order:

  1. The Handicapped – There’s nothing worse than standing in a long line while everything comes to a screeching halt so some gimpy jackass – who skipped the entire line anyway – gets loaded into a ride. I’ll make you buggers need a wheelchair!
  2. Families with small children – Again, it’s damned difficult to move ahead in line when Mom and Dad are facing backwards having a discussion while their holy terrors run headlong towards the ride-crippling machinery with malicious intent.
  3. Non-English Speakers – Have you ever spent time amongst any of the other people in the world? They have no concept of personal space, believe that extreme assertiveness is the only way to get ahead and ignore direction which causes an inevitable ride shutdown for safety reasons. Just stay behind the goddamned yellow line and we can all try to have fun! Foreign scum.
  4. The Elderly – These poor folks not only move slightly slower than three-toed sloths with mono; they have a disturbing tendency to travel in packs whilst wandering side to side “like a drunken man on a sidewalk” blocking the entire walkway and reducing all and sundry to their leisurely pace.
  5. The Grossly Obese – Combine the elderly, inattentive youngsters and the handicapped and you have the grossly obese. Often an entire ride has to be stopped to slather on the Crisco necessary to wedge these poor fools into the average sized seats. The boat rides often list perilously to port or starboard leaving the other passengers to desperately scramble in hopes of balancing the load. Then, not only do they move impossibly slowly when walking they also manage to take up twice the area of a sizable band of sherry swilling Red Hat Ladies careening hopelessly down the sidewalk.

For good measure I could add teenagers – I think if you pulled out their earphones their brains would leak out and I wish they’d occasionally just SHUT THE F**K UP! – and Yankees fans.

Posted in On the Road Again | 1 Comment

Thirty-Six

Enjoying my birthday here in damp and chilly Central Florida thinking I shouldn’t complain because it’s a hell of a lot worse where everybody else is.

Thinking about my Grandmother in her hospital bed fighting the latest in a seemingly never-ending stream of difficulties and wishing I could talk to her and share the celebration of her becoming a grandmother on this day thirty-six years ago.

Thinking about Jed Hastings, R.I.P., and missing the annual telephone call on “our” birthday. It just ain’t the same.

Thinking that thirty-six is much tougher on my brain than anything else in my thirties: I assume it’s because I’m closer to 40 than 30 and closer to 50 than 20. Crazy the way the mind works.

Thinking I must be completely loopy to go to Disney World by myself at thirty-six. But, damn, I had a good time.

Posted in A Hooligan's History | Leave a comment